The Fury

Lana realized she was going to be sick. She pulled herself up. She ran to her bedroom, into the bathroom.

She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and threw up.





3





When Lana came out of the bathroom, she found Agathi was in her bedroom, waiting for her.

There was silence for a moment. The two women stared at each other.

Lana realized she needn’t have worried about Agathi losing control. There was no danger of an emotional outburst. Agathi looked entirely calm. Only her red eyes showed she had recently been crying.

“Agathi. Please let me explain.”

Agathi spoke in a low, flat voice. “What is this? A joke? A game?”

“No.” Lana hesitated. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Then what?”

“I can tell you, if you’ll let me—”

“How could you do this, Lana?” Agathi searched her eyes, incredulous. “How could you be so cruel? You let me think you died. You broke my heart—”

“I’m sorry—”

“No. I do not accept your apology. Let me tell you something, Lana. You are a most selfish, self-deluding person. I see all this—and I love you. Because I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you.”

“No.” Agathi rolled her eyes in angry contempt. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You are not capable. You don’t know how to love.”

Lana stared at her, deeply pained. “Selfish and self-deluding? Is that what you think? Perhaps … you’re right. But I am capable of love. I love you.”

They stared at each other for an instant. Then Lana went on, quietly. “I need your help, Agathi. Let me try and explain. Please.”

Agathi didn’t reply. She just stared at her.





4





Meanwhile, I reluctantly agreed to accompany Jason and Nikos on their search of the island—looking for a nonexistent intruder.

I felt increasingly resentful as we made our way along the coast, battered by the wind. I was exhausted; and my newish shoes had been ruined from wading through undergrowth, mud, and sand. I was also anxious to get back to Lana—and Agathi.

But Jason was proving annoyingly methodical in his search, intent on examining every square foot of the island. Even when we reached the cliffs—and it was finally obvious no boat was moored on the island—Jason refused to accept defeat. I think in some perverse way, he was enjoying himself; acting like a hero in a bad movie.

“Let’s keep going,” he shouted, to be heard over the wind.

“Where?” I shouted. “There’s no one here. Let’s go back.”

Jason shook his head. “We have to search the buildings first.” He shone his flashlight into Nikos’s face. “Starting with his place.”

Nikos glared at him, blinking in the light. He didn’t respond.

Jason smiled. “That a problem?”

Nikos shook his head, frowning. He didn’t take his eyes off Jason.

“Good,” Jason said. “Come on.”

“Not me,” I said. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check on the others.”

Before Jason could object, I marched off.

As I hurried along the path, back to the house, I wondered whether Lana had managed to placate Agathi. Hopefully Lana had smoothed things over and persuaded her to play ball.

But, knowing Agathi, I felt far from confident Lana would succeed.

As I entered the house through the French windows, I looked around. There was no sign of anyone. I took the opportunity to crouch down by the long sofa and, reaching underneath, I felt for the guns I’d hidden there earlier.

I pulled out a revolver.

I looked at it for a moment, feeling its weight in my hand. I checked the barrel. It was empty. I took out the bullets from my pockets—I’d stolen a handful from the box in the gun room. I carefully loaded it.

I didn’t know much about guns. Just the basics—taught to me by Lana, when Jason first acquired them. She learned to shoot on the set of a Western she did—and we had a practice session, she and I, one afternoon, on the island. I wasn’t a bad shot.

Even so, I was afraid of this weapon I was holding. My fingers were slightly trembling, as I placed the gun in my pocket. I kept one hand on it, cautiously, through my trousers.

I checked my reflection in the mirror.

And there, reflected in the mirror, right behind me, was Lana’s bloodstained corpse—staring at me with bloodshot eyes.

I jumped and spun around.

Lana looked a fright—covered in bullet wounds, dried blood, and dirt. An incongruous sight in this elegant living room. I laughed.

“Christ, you scared me. What are you doing here? Get back to the ruin before Jason sees you.”

Lana didn’t reply. She walked in and poured herself a drink.

“You went a bit off-piste back there, love. Running after Agathi like that. Take it from me—nothing is more catastrophic than when an actress starts writing her own script. Always ends in tears.”

I was joking—trying to make her laugh. But it didn’t work. Lana didn’t even crack a smile.

“Where is everyone?” I said. “Where’s Kate?”

“In the summerhouse. With Leo.”

“Good. He gave a marvelous performance, by the way. He’s inherited your talent. He’ll go far.”

Lana didn’t reply. She took one of Kate’s cigarettes from the table and lit it. I watched her smoke, feeling uneasy.

“You spoke to Agathi?”

Lana nodded and blew out a long line of smoke.

I frowned. “And? Did you square it with her? Has she given you her blessing?”

“No, she has not. She’s very upset.”

I laughed. “You should have told her it was my idea.”

“I did.”

“And? What did she say?”

“That you’re evil.”

“That’s a little dramatic. Anything else?”

“That God will punish you.”

“I think he already has.”

“It’s over, Elliot.” Lana stubbed out the cigarette. “She said this must stop. Now.”

Ah, I thought. So that was it. I tried not to sound too annoyed.

“It’s not finished yet. We still have the final act. Agathi has to wait until the curtain.”

“It’s curtain, now. It’s over.”

“What about Jason?”

Lana shrugged. She whispered, more to herself than to me, “Jason doesn’t care. He thinks I’m dead—and he doesn’t care.”

She looked wretched as she said this.

At last, I thought. At last, Lana was awake. At last, she had seen the light. I had been waiting for this moment. Now we could begin again, she and I—on an equal footing this time. We could begin again—with honesty, and truth.

“Very well. It’s over. What now?”

Lana shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“I have an idea—if you care to hear it.”

Despite herself, Lana glanced at me with faint curiosity. “Well?”

It seemed like the moment for truth. So I went for it.

“Remember that night you first met Jason? On the South Bank? We’ve never spoken about that night.”

“What about it?”

“I had a ring on me.… I was going to ask you to marry me.”

Lana looked up at me. I could see the surprise in her eyes.

I smiled. “But Jason got there first, unfortunately. I’ve often wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t met him that night.”

Lana looked away. “Nothing would have happened.”

Now it was my turn to look surprised. “Nothing?”

She shrugged. “You and I were friends, that’s all.”

“Were?” I smiled. “I was under the impression we still are. And a damn sight more than that—and you know it.” I felt suddenly quite angry. “Why can’t you be honest with yourself, just for once? I love you, Lana. Leave him. Marry me.”

Lana stared at me, silent, as if she hadn’t heard me.

“I mean it. Marry me—and be happy.”

It took all of my courage to say this. I held my breath.

There was a pause. Lana’s response, when it came, was brutal. She laughed. A cold hard laugh, like a slap in the face.

“And then what?” she said. “Fall down the stairs, like Barbara West?”

I felt like I’d been punched. I stared at her, stunned. I felt—well, you know me as well as anyone, by now—you can imagine how I felt. I didn’t trust myself to speak. I was afraid I might say something unforgivable, something that would cross an uncrossable line.

So, I didn’t say anything. I turned and walked out.





5



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